Dark Season: The Complete Third Series (All 8 books)

by Amy Cross

  Turning away, I shut the door. Standing alone in the dark kitchen, I listen to the sound of the whole house vibrating, a sound that's getting steadily louder and louder. After a moment, I hear movement elsewhere in the house and eventually my startled father appears from my parents' bedroom. Without saying anything, he pushes past me, opens the door and looks out at the huge wall of snow and hail that's rapidly coming straight for us. In my heart of hearts, I was hoping that he'd have some answer; that he'd know what to do. But he just stares at the oncoming apocalypse, his eyes wide, his mouth open. He's clearly stunned by what he sees.

  "It's the judgment of the Lord," says my mother, who has also come out from the bedroom. "It's not just we who shall face this wrath. The whole of the world is coming to Judgment Day". She drops to her knees as the house continues to shake. Suddenly a pot falls from the kitchen wall, banging against the wooden floor. "Let the sinners die first," my mother continues. "Let the Lord see the good work of the faithful. Let the Lord guide this maelstrom around our house, so that it retains its full force for when it strikes the sinners in town".

  Rushing past her, I head to the bedroom I share with my brother. If I'm to die, I want to be with him when it happens. On the way, however, I glance into my grandmother's room and I stop, shocked by what I see. My first thought, yet again, is that I must have lost my mind, because my grandmother's bed is now empty, her dead body nowhere to be seen. I step into the room and see that the empty bed has a brown stain on the white sheet, and a few beetles are scurrying around. Who would have moved the body at this hour, and why?

  "Grandmother?" says a voice in the next room. It's my brother. "Don't touch me," he says, sounding scared. "Don't touch me!" he screams.

  I turn to go and see what's happening, but at that moment there's a massive crashing sound and the whole house seems to lurch up into the air. I grab the door to steady myself, but it's useless as the house pitches to one side. Closing my eyes, I hear the horrific sound of wood being torn apart all around me, and the howling of the dust storm fills my ears. I desperately try to cling on to the door, in the vain hope that somehow I can be saved, but finally I hear the house start to break apart. Forcing myself to open my eyes, I look over my shoulder just in time to see the front of the house being pulled up into the swirling vortex that surrounds us. The churning snow is all around me. Finally the force is too strong and I let go of the door. The storm hauls me up into the air. I look back down and see the rest of the house disintegrating, and then for a moment it's as if I'm hanging in the air, hundreds of feet up, so high that I'm above the tops of the trees. I've been consumed by the storm, and for a moment it seems that I'm to be pulled ever higher. Finally, however, I see the wrecked kitchen wall come flying straight towards me. I barely have time to blink before the wood smashes into me, shearing my head straight from my body. There's another moment of consciousness as my severed head is thrown about in the storm, and then I feel life itself fade into darkness.

  Chapter One

  Today.

  "Devil's Briar was on a few early maps," shouts Bill, trying to be heard over the sound of the spluttering engine as our truck bounces along the dirt road, "but it was generally assumed that the place was just a small encampment. A few houses, maybe a well, nothing of any real importance or even permanence". At that moment, the truck hits a particularly large bump, jolting us violently. "Those old maps were notoriously unreliable," he adds, barely even missing a beat. "Seriously, if we went looking for every scratchy little town that might or might not have existed, we'd be -"

  "Rock!" I shout, pointing at a boulder that's sitting straight in the middle of the road.

  Bill looks ahead and sees the boulder just in time. He turns the wheel sharply to the left and the truck careers off the dirt road and into the brush. For a moment, it seems like we might be about to overturn, but the heavily-laden truck just about manages to remain the right way up as Bill slows us down and we come to a halt just at the edge of the tall pine trees that reach high up into the afternoon sky. Smiling, Bill stares ahead. "You see, Paula?" he says finally. "You see what it's like out here? There's no infrastructure, no human intervention, just hundreds of miles of pristine, unspoilt woodland. We're probably the first people to come through this stretch of land in years, since the loggers who cut this rough road. There's nothing out here. No oil, nothing of value at all. It's a wasteland. This is the very last corner of America that might have any secrets at all. If we'd died just then, no-one would have found our bodies for... months. Years, even. Maybe not ever".

  "You mind if I drive for a while?" I ask, smiling. It's great to see Bill so enthusiastic, especially given what he's been through over the past year, but I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable taking the wheel.

  Sighing, he unbuckles his seat-belt and climbs out. "I'm okay, you know," he says. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm totally fine".

  As soon as I get out of my side of the truck, I'm struck by how cold it is out here. There are patches of snow all around, and I can see my breath as I walk around to the driver's side. "It must be below zero," I say, climbing back into the truck. "How much further until we get to Devil's Briar?"

  "Just a few more miles," he replies, getting into the passenger seat.

  "You said that a few miles ago," I point out, starting the engine, "and a few miles before that". Easing the gas pedal down to avoid spinning the wheels, I ease us slowly back up onto the dirt road. Frankly, this trip is starting to feel like a wild goose chase and a chore. For the past week, Bill has been able to talk about nothing other than the possibility of finding this once-buried ghost town out in the Colorado wilderness. It sounded like a far-fetched idea at first, but he gradually gathered enough evidence to persuade me to come with him. I mean, what kind of a wife would I be if I let my husband come on a cockamamie trip like this by himself? He tried to get a few other professors interested at the university, but none of them took his claims seriously. To them, the idea of discovering an entire lost town is too far-fetched. As for me, I'm willing to suspend my disbelief for a while, if only to humor my husband.

  "Are you sure there's no-one else out here?" I ask. "We can't seriously have this whole wilderness to ourselves".

  "There's nothing and no-one," he replies. "It's dangerous territory. Not the kind of place you want to go wandering around aimlessly. Satellite imaging shows no signs of wheel-tracks or any other kind of disturbance".

  "And satellites can never be wrong," I say, unable to hide the cynicism in my voice. I've been supportive so far, but now I'm getting worried. The odds of us actually finding this forgotten ghost town are tiny, and I'm afraid that Bill's spirit will be crushed. Am I doing the right thing by indulging him in this journey? I'm desperate for him to get back into his work, but perhaps I've taken things too far? I'm starting to think that I should have let him down gently and encouraged him to find some other project. Something nice. Something safe. Something easy.

  "It's thanks to the satellites that we found this place at all," he replies. "Without..." He pauses for a moment. "Hang on, pull over for a second".

  "Why?" I ask, unable to see anything up ahead that might have piqued his interest.

  "Over there!" he says, pointing to the right of the road. "Paula, stop!"

  Sighing, I pull over and stop the engine. Bill immediately gets out of the truck and limps twenty or so feet across the desert, finally stopping next to what looks like a long line of wood, partially buried in the ground. At first, I assume it's just a fallen tree, but as I sit and watch him through the windshield, I realize maybe he's actually found something. Getting out of the truck again, I wander over to join him. After all this effort, it'd be pretty amazing if it turned out Bill was actually right about there being something out here.

  As I get to his side, I see what he's looking at: it appears to be the foundations of an old house. Laid out before us, six large beams are sticking up from the ground. It's not much, but the only logical explanation is that a
t some point in the past there was a dwelling here. A dwelling isn't exactly a whole town, but it's still more than I thought we'd find, and it should be enough to boost Bill's confidence. I guess this trip won't be a waste of time after all.

  "This isn't on any maps," Bill says, turning to me. I can see the excitement in his eyes. This is the kind of thing he lives for: discovering things that no-one else knew about, and digging up the secrets of the past. These past few years stuck behind a desk at the university, and then recovering in hospital from his accident, have left him drained of enthusiasm. Finally, and slowly, the old Bill - the man I fell in love with, the man I married, the man I hoped to have children with some day - seems to be coming back to me. I should be happy.

  "It doesn't mean there was a town here," I point out, trying to manage his expectations. Damn it, sometimes I feel like a mother who's trying to look after a wayward child. "Maybe someone just built a smallholding, tried to live off the land, and then gave up. You can't take these foundations and extrapolate a whole community". I look about at the forest that surrounds us. "I don't see signs of any other buildings in the area".

  "The actual town's another mile or two to the north," Bill replies. "This must have been an outlier. People lived here, Paula. They probably built this house with there bare hands. This is part of American history that none of us have ever seen before. This is the American Dream. These foundations have laid undisturbed for decades, maybe even a century or more. Aren't you excited? This is literally new history being unearthed".

  "I'm very excited," I say, though I immediately realize that I'm a terrible actress. I don't sound excited at all. I sound bored.

  "We need to get going," Bill says, standing up and hurrying back to the truck. "There might be a whole town to explore!"

  Sighing, I get to my feet and follow him. It's not that I'm disinterested in the prospect of discovering the remains of an entire town. It's just that I'm not sure how much we can determine about the place from a bunch of ruined foundations. It's not like we're going to find too much left behind, not if the whole place has been covered by snow and soil for almost a century. Still, I have to keep my cynical side in check for now. This trip is about Bill.

  "Think about what we might find out here," Bill says as we get back into the truck.

  "My husband, the romantic," I say wryly.

  "Everyone needs to be passionate about something," he says. "Come on, Paula. Get with the program".

  Reluctant to say anything that might burst his bubble, I decide not to argue. Instead, I fire up the truck and we head off along the dirt road. For mile after mile we see nothing ahead of us but the dirt road lined on either side by pine trees. I start to worry that Bill's hopes of finding an abandoned town are going to be dashed. Just as I'm ready to give up, however, I spot something in the distance.

  "You see that?" I ask.

  He stares at the map for a moment. "It's not marked down here," he says. "It could be the ruins we saw on the satellite image".

  I smile nervously. As we drive closer and closer, it becomes clear that whatever we've found, it's more than just a set of ruins. The trees have been cut back and there are whole buildings left standing, arranged in what looks to be two contra-parallel streets. Whatever this place used to be, it was clearly never a big town, but it was a town, with stores and houses. I park the truck right next to the closest building, and Bill immediately climbs out and takes a few steps toward the town before turning to me. He looks awestruck, as if he never expected to find anything so stunning. It's a small town. It must have been hidden by snow and dust for close to a century before a shift in the local conditions uncovered it. There are no historical records of the place, no firm mentions in any old books or letters. It's as if the place has just cropped up from nowhere: a hundred-year-old ghost town, ruined and abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

  "This must be it," Bill says, grinning. He turns to me. "This must be Devil's Briar".

  Chapter Two

  1925.

  Lawrence was a good boy. Really, Lord, he was. Such a good boy, which makes whole this business all the more unpleasant and regrettable. He might have made a few mistakes under pressure, but in general he was a good, honest boy who had time and a happy smile for everyone. His one flaw was the ladies. Oh, how Lawrence's head could be turned by a pretty girl. I understand how the temptation of the flesh can turn a man's head, Lord, but for Lawrence it was almost impossible to ignore the arrival of a new woman in town. He'd become besotted, some might even say obsessed. I know he tried to fight his urges, and I know he prayed and prayed to you until his knees were sore, but something in that boy was unable to summon up the necessary strength. And so he sinned.

  May the Lord have mercy on his soul.

  "Mayor Caster?" calls out a meek voice at the door, accompanied by a faint knock. "May I enter?"

  Opening my eyes, I sit up straight and pause for a moment to compose myself. "Come in, Adelaide," I say eventually.

  "Good afternoon, Mayor Caster," Adelaide says as she steps into the room. A quiet, mousy woman of late middle age, Adelaide is so timid she can barely even make eye contact with me. I believe it must be my masculinity that frightens her; it's understandable, really, that such a delicate woman would be overcome by my strong, powerful presence. "I was asked to tell you that a man has arrived at the hotel and has been asking after you, "she continues. "Henry said you ought to know".

  "A man?" I say, frowning.

  She nods, glancing briefly at me before looking back down at the floor. "He arrived this morning. A tall man, wearing black. He told Henry he plans to come and introduce himself to you later today, and Henry thought you really should be forewarned. Henry thinks there's something unsettling about the man".

  I take a deep breath. "Henry should be careful to judge others," I tell her. "After all, Henry is certainly not without his own flaws".

  "Yes," she says quickly.

  "Tell me, has this man done anything to offend anyone?"

  "No," she says.

  "Has he said anything untoward or ungodly?"

  "I don't believe so," she says.

  "Is there something objectionable about his character, or about his business? Does he smell bad?"

  She shakes her head.

  "Then what business does Henry have in condemning this man?" I wait for Adelaide to answer, even though I know she won't say anything. I don't know if she has the mental fortitude to form opinions of her own; if she does, she keeps them to herself. "Henry should focus on his own business before he starts criticizing the lives of others. I'm sure the stranger would be more than capable of finding my office without help, but perhaps on this occasion I shall make an effort to come and seek him out myself". Rising from my chair, I walk slowly over to the door. and take my walking cane from the rack "Come and show me this man," I tell Adelaide, "but first, will you join me in a prayer for poor Lawrence?"

  "Poor..." she starts to say, looking puzzled. "Of course".

  "Kneel," I tell her.

  Slowly getting down on her knees, Adelaide clasps her hands before her face and closes her eyes.

  "Dear Lord," I begin, "we beg your mercy for the soul of our dear comrade Lawrence Evans, that he might be forgiven by his fellow men. We implore you to give him the strength necessary to face his current struggles, and we ask that you give us the same strength and enable us to ignore the pleasures of the flesh. Amen".

  "Amen," Adelaide whispers.

  "Now get up," I say. "I'm a busy man".

  Having dressed for the street in my finest fur coat, I lead Adelaide out of the building and pause to take a long, deep breath of air. It's a slow day in Devil's Briar, with just a few of the townspeople going about their business. The shops are all open, though, and the commerce of the town seems to be rumbling along at an acceptable pace. Striking out across the wide, open square toward the hotel, I greet several passersby and - in turn - I am greeted warmly. It has taken me some years to establish myself as Mayo
r of Devil's Briar, but in that time I have earned the respect of most of my fellow citizens. Whenever I am out and about on official business, I feel that I am doing good work. In these troubled times, when people worry about sin and evil, I have the added responsibility of providing guidance and moral authority. Fortunately, these needs fall within my natural abilities.

  "Good morning, Henry," I say as I enter the foyer of the hotel, with Adelaide scuttling along behind me. "I understand we have a visitor in our midst".

  "We do indeed," Henry replies sourly. Standing behind the reception desk, he makes little effort to disguise his dislike of my person. "The gentleman is through in the bar at this very moment".

  "In the bar?" I reply, a little shocked. "I do hope he is not -"

  "Of course not," Henry says with a calculated smile. "He is merely taking tea with his companion".

  "He has a companion?" I ask.

  Henry nods.

  "You didn't tell me about a companion," I say, turning to Adelaide.

  "I wasn't aware of any companion," she replies, looking scared. "I'm sorry, I didn't know!"

  I sigh. "You must ensure you have all the facts before you come tittle-tattling to me in future. Otherwise, you risk setting me up to look like a fool, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

  She shakes her head.

  "Very well," I say. "You can go on your way". Turning, I walk toward the bar, pausing at the door to ensure that my tie is straight. It's a rare pleasure to welcome visitors to Devil's Briar, and I feel it's my duty to greet every new arrival personally, no matter how brief their time here with us might be. I consider myself to be the public face of the community, and I hope to set the tone and ensure that outsiders not only feel welcomed, but also understand that they are to treat our little town with the respect and courtesy that we deserve. Finally, taking a deep breath, I walk through the door and enter the bar, which is empty apart from a figure sitting over by the window.